


Long Live the King

by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2 major Character Deaths, Angst, Boy King!Sam, Canon Compliant up to Season 11, Control by Halsey, I expect to be getting angry messages, M/M, Season 11 au, Song fic, Soulless!Sam, Spoilers for Season 11, Witchcraft, dark!Sam, demon blood drinking, descriptions of torture, like a lot of them, this is angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 22:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6348727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four hunters are dead. Two more, Garth, Dean and Castiel are hiding throughout the bunker. <br/>But who's the killer?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Live the King

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this on my friend Elliot who told me so I could write the angst in my RPBB, I should write other angst. And I was listening to Control by Halsey and. . . Well, you got this.   
> I love you <3

_ They send me away to find them a fortune _

_ A chest filled with diamonds and gold _

 

Sam Winchester wandered the halls of the bunker, seeing anything and everything that may or may not come across his path. The plaid sleeves of his flannel were rolled up neatly just above his elbows- good thing too, with the amount of blood on his hands and arms. There was blood down the front of his shirt, but he ignored it. He shifted his grip on Ruby’s knife and poked his head into the war room. 

“Dean?” He called out playfully. “Castiel? Come out and play!” He licked his lips in anticipation. 

 

_ The house was awake the shadows and monsters _

_ The hallways they echoed and groaned _

 

Dean and Castiel sped around the corner, Castiel preventing Dean from diving head first into the war room as they heard Sam’s voice. Taunting them, daring them to come near. 

“What happened to him, Cas?” Dean whispered as they moved back the way they came stealthily. 

“I’m not sure,” Castiel said slowly, rolling his neck out. His Vessel still ached from holding Lucifer in for so long but he was back at mostly full strength. “He’s not possessed, as far as I’m aware he has his soul, and he hasn’t been near any demon blood. He could have. . . just snapped.”

“Dammit, Cas,” Dean said, trying to get a grip on his emotions. He wants to know what happened to his baby brother, why his brother just slaughtered half of the hunters that were in the kitchen to discuss the Amara problem. 

There were three other hunters who were still alive, including Garth, who had come when Dean called even though he was hesitant. The full moon was nigh, but Garth insisted on coming. Plus Dean and Castiel, which made five. 

But the other hunters didn’t know how Sam worked. They didn’t know how he moved, how he strategized. Sam was logical in his attacks, even more so when he was being influenced, possessed, or soulless. He knew exactly how to corner his prey and even though there were plenty of times he was scared, Dean knew that that fear would help him. 

But now Sammy was fearless, and Dean was scared. Scared of his baby brother. 

 

_ I sat alone in bed till the morning _

_ I’m crying “They’re coming for me” _

 

Sam had been different all his life. From Azazel’s “gift” to being Lucifer’s True Vessel, he was different. A freak. 

Dean craved alcohol. Castiel was addicted to humanity. Sam’s vice was demon blood. 

Even after a couple of detoxes that nearly killed him, and after being cured of the addiction, he couldn’t help it. It was dark and rich, better than any whiskey Dean could dig up in the bunker, sweeter than ambrosia. It made him more powerful, made him a better hunter. He could kill demons with a single thought. 

And when he was soulless, the ideals that he held dear- or so he thought- were tossed out the window. He could do what he needed to do, no pesky emotions getting in his way of the job. Whatever was needed to get the monster, he could do. 

Thanks to a little bit of witchcraft and Sam’s knowledge of Latin, he was able to remove his soul and keep it hidden. On the last hunt he did solo, he was able to drain four demons dry. There were six more down in the dungeon, powerless by devil’s traps and all sorts of other things. Devil’s trap bullets, to keep them from smoking out and using their powers. Iron cells. 

He made a quick detour down to the dungeon. The demon blood in his veins was starting wear out, but he had been using his telekinesis a lot more than he expected. 

He selected a demon, a crossroads one. They were his favorites- the blood was the sweetest. He wished he could have feasted on Alastair’s or Lillith’s to see how it compared. However, it wasn’t meant to be. Unfortunately. 

The demon hissed at him and flashed red eyes at him with a snarl. “Crowley won’t let you get away with this,” he growled. 

Sam smirked as he sliced the demon’s wrist with Ruby’s knife. “Crowley will answer to  _ me  _ now,” he said calmly. “I’m reclaiming my throne.” He ducked his head down and began drinking, lapping up the sweet, rich blood. Finished with his snack, he shoved the demon back and sauntered off, feeling invigorated. 

 

_ And I tried to hold these secrets inside me _

_ My mind’s like a deadly disease _

 

Dean ducked his head back into the war room after hearing Sam lumber away. He army crawled to the table and quickly tapped out a message on his phone, highlighting the people that weren’t there and knew where the bunker was, including Crowley. 

**This is Dean Winchester. Sam’s gone rogue. Help.**

He ducked and hid, not even daring to breathe as he heard Sam’s footsteps re-enter. 

“Garth? Castiel?” Sam called out, his voice bordering slightly on hysterical. “Dean?” He called out each of them by name, taunting them. “We were just getting the party started! Why stop now?”

Dean closed his eyes and prayed to God that Sam wouldn’t find them. 

He also knew that those prayers would be futile. Sam knew every inch of the bunker, knew the blueprints like the back of his hand.

Speaking of people being found. . .  _ where was Cas? _

 

_ I’m bigger than my body _

_ I’m colder than this home _

_ I’m meaner than my demons _

_ I’m bigger than these bones _

 

Sam found two more hunters and quickly ended them. That left Garth, Castiel, and Dean. 

He smirked as he wiped his knife down on his jeans, standing up and cracking his back. 

“C’mon, boys, I’m just getting warmed up!” He called out. He made his way into the kitchen, where four more hunters laid in various methods of death. He grabbed a bottle of water and downed it, tossing the plastic away before leaving. He ran a blood soaked hand through his hair, staining the chestnut curls and the tip of his forehead with the red color as he thought about the survivors. 

Garth would be the easiest, so he was next. Garth was probably curled up in a bedroom or a bathroom, ready to attack. A silver bullet straight to the heart would do nicely. 

Then came Cas and Dean. . . He cackled maniacally as he realized if he captures one, the other will come  _ running  _ to try to save them. And how much would it break the other to watch the one Sam already has  _ die  _ by his hand?

 

_ And all the kids cried out  _

_ “Please stop, you’re scaring me” _

 

Dean heard the laughter and he cringed as well as whimpered. That’s not his baby brother. That’s not his Sammy. That’s not the man he raised. 

_ That is a monster.  _

His baby brother was gone. Sammy was gone. In his place, wearing his skin, using his memories, his hands. . . that was a monster. One that needed to be put down. 

He checked his bullets. He had four left. 

He couldn’t afford to miss. 

 

_ I can’t help this awful energy _

_ Goddamn right you should be scared of me _

_ Who is in control? _

 

Sam found Garth, as predicted, in a closet in one of the bedrooms, ready to pounce on the theoretically unsuspecting hunter. The werewolf had turned, and lunged at Sam with claws out and teeth bared. Sam fired off a quick shot of silver, wounding the hunter. Garth howled and Sam fished out a machete and cut off the werewolf’s head, smirking. 

“Nice try, but you’ve been Garth’d,” he said before giggling to himself. 

Now it was time to get Dean and Castiel. 

“Here angel angel angel. . . Here brother brother brother. . .” he cooed as he left the body. Upon reaching the door, he pulled his gun back out and shot the head once, then the body. Just to make sure. 

 

_ I paced around for hours on empty _

_ I jumped at the slightest of sounds _

 

Dean jumped as he heard the gunshot, the snarl, then silence. He allowed himself a soft exhale when he jumped again upon hearing two more gunshots. 

“Here angel, angel, angel. . . . here brother, brother, brother. . .” he heard Sam coo as he made his way through the stately halls. 

Heading towards  the war room. 

Dean got up and ran as fast as he could. 

_ Where was Cas? _

He began to pray to the angel. 

_ CASTIEL WHERE ARE YOU I THINK IT’S JUST THE TWO OF US IN HERE WITH THE RENDITION OF THE SHINING!  _

 

_ And I couldn’t stand the person inside me _

_ I turned all the mirrors around  _

 

Sam smiled a slow, dark smile as he hunted for the angel and his brother. He weighed on who would be easier to catch, who would be better to catch?

On one hand, Castiel is an angel. Weakened from possession by Lucifer, yes, but he’s still infinitely stronger than Sam. While he may not be the easiest to capture, he’d be the bigger threat if he were to kill Dean before Castiel. Being smited was not on Sam’s agenda. 

Dean, on the other hand, was easier to capture and it might make Castiel snap. Meaning a nice messy fight. 

Deciding to catch the angel, he fished out his angel blade and sliced his palm open with it. In addition to learning how to take his soul out of his body, he learned of a blood ritual that would trap angels all the way up to the big four. 

He drew the sigils on the floor of the kitchen, humming a mindless tune as he did so. He then surrounded the trap with holy oil.

He spoke the spell and grinned as a disgruntled angel appear in the trap. He raised the lit match and dropped it, igniting the oil and creating holy fire. 

“Sam.” 

“Castiel,” Sam mocked. 

“You don’t want to do this, Sam.” Castiel urged, blue eyes fiery in the flames. 

“Oh, I think I  _ do _ ,” Sam purred. 

 

_ I’m bigger than my body  _

_ I’m colder than this home  _

_ I’m meaner than my demons _

_ I’m bigger than these bones  _

 

Dean kept praying. And praying. And he prayed louder. 

Then he realized all was quiet. 

_ No. Cas can’t be dead. Cas is an angel.  _

_ I’d know if Cas was dead.  _

He began inching out of his personal bedroom before clearing rooms one by one. 

He found Garth’s body and he wondered how he was going to tell Garth’s wife and mate that one of his best friends murdered him in cold blood. 

He found the two other hunters in the library. 

He found trails of blood leading out to the various places, nicely placed blood splatters that made him sick to his stomach. 

Those were his colleagues, some of them friends. Good hunters. Men who had his back, and Sam’s. 

_ Why is Sam just killing them?  _

He rounded the corner to the kitchen, nearly dropping his gun. 

“Hello, Dean,” Sam greeted. “How nice of you to join us.”

Castiel’s eyes pleaded with him to run. 

 

_ And all the kids cried out  _

_ “Please stop, you’re scaring me” _

_ I can’t help this awful energy _

 

Sam smirked as Dean nearly dropped his gun. The angel and the hunter were doing their eye contact thing that always looked like eye fucking each other to him. 

“All caught up? Good,” he said smoothly. 

“Sammy, what’s the hell’s going on?” Dean asked harshly. 

“Oh, my  _ own  _ thing, Dean,” Sam purred. He flicked his wrist, slamming his brother up against the wall. 

Dean gasped and struggled, but Sam ignored him. “You see, I’ve been needing to get to the point where I could do my job better. Where I could be a better hunter. So I did my research.” 

“You drank demon blood,” Castiel stated. 

“Oh yes, but I did more,” Sam hummed. He rolled his shoulders and leaned up against the table, observing the trapped angel and the struggling human. “See, I know I was a better hunter when I was soulless. Short of reopening the Cage, jumping back in, and having an angel erroneously retrieve everything but my soul, I had to come up with something. So I did some research. And I came across a spell. A spell to remove one’s soul.”

Dean closed his eyes.  _ Sammy, no.  _

“So I removed my soul. And learned a great many other things too.” 

_ Sammy, this isn’t you.  _

“As is evident by the seraph trap you placed inside the ring of holy oil that became holy fire,” Castiel said. “Sam, this Adamic magic.”

“Yes, it is,” Sam said smugly. He twirled the angel blade in his fingers. 

 

_ Goddamn right you should be scared of me _

_ Who is in control? _

 

Dean couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His little brother was off the wagon.  Off his rocker. Touched in the head.  _ Insane.  _

He  _ willingly _ became soulless. He  _ willingly  _ drank demon blood. He, in his own conscious mind, managed to kill seven hunters, pin Dean to the wall with nothing more than a thought, and trap Castiel not only with holy fire, but with magic that was older than even Cain. 

John had always told Dean that there may come a day where Dean would have to kill Sam. Dean always denied it and even when it seemed like the only option- such as when Death told him to kill Sam before removing himself so he could live under the influence of the Mark without hurting or killing anyone else- he avoided it. 

But now, looking at his brother, who was eyeing up Castiel like the angel was a lamb for slaughter and running his thumb over the sharp edge of the blade, he knew that his father was right. 

Sam had to be killed. For humanity’s sake. 

However, both he and Castiel were powerless to do anything but watch Sam circle around the holy fire, observing the angel. 

Dean knew he had to do something. 

“Sammy, why?” He asked. 

“Why, I’m so glad you asked, Dean,” Sam said, turning his head towards his older brother, and Dean nearly pissed himself as he saw his baby brother’s eyes flash the sickly yellow that Azazel had. 

 

_ I’m well acquainted with villains that live in my head _

_ They beg me to write them so they’ll never die when I’m dead _

_ And I’ve grown familiar with villains that live in my head _

_ They beg me to write them so I’ll never die when I’m dead _

 

Sam smirked, his eyes clearing from the yellow overcast and back to his normal enigmatic eyes that didn’t loose the cruel edge that Azazel had blessed him with. 

“Why, he asks me,” Sam chuckled, playing with the angel blade in his hands. “Did it ever occur to you, Dean, that this is what I’ve  _ always  _ wanted? More than anything?” 

“You’ve wanted me  _ dead? _ You’ve wanted CAS dead?!” Dean barked. 

Sam sighed and snapped his fingers. Dean went to yell at Sam but no sound came out, and he glared at him. 

“Let me finish, Dean, it’s rude to interrupt,” Sam mocked, a cruel little smirk playing upon his lips. “It’s not so much you and Cas dead that I’ve wanted, it’s more of getting the two of you off my back. I’m always the ‘damsel in distress’, waiting for the two of you to come rescue me like two sexually repressed lovers. I am a hunter and a fighter, a respected one in my own right, and yet- and  _ yet,  _ here comes my big brother, Dean Winchester to save the day. Your greatest flaw is never being able to let me go.” Sam’s eyes bored holes into Dean’s, and his brother squirmed, uncomfortable and unable to defend himself. 

“I know what you’re thinking. That it’s your job, and has been since you were four years old. That it was drilled into your head. Which is why whenever I do something that could be considered irresponsible, stupid, overly dramatic- take your pick- you never truly blamed me. You blamed yourself. Like you’re my  _ parent. _ ” Sam spat the word out like it was a curse. “You weren’t my brother- you were my father, and you felt yourself as such. And that’s how you came across as. Almost like a certain duo of angels we know.” 

Dean visibly flinched. “Oh yes,” Sam laughed. “I’m going to compare you to Michael. The eldest, the ‘father-brother’ who raised his slightly astray brother. The brother that was almost  _ favored  _ above himself. The one that the absent father loved more. But then that brother rebelled, and the elder always blamed himself for the way the younger one turned out. Well,” Sam smirked, “The younger one  _ likes  _ being a rebel. He created new things. He became jealous. And the older brother threw him to the wolves.”

Dean had closed his eyes and Sam shook his head. “You never fully appreciated me,” he explained, running a blood drenched hand over his face, streaking it in the coppery scent of human life. “You almost always took me for granted. And when I was in trouble, you tried your hardest to get me out of it, and put you in instead. It’s how you sold your soul and broke the first seal. It’s how you killed Death not that long ago. I could go on, Dean. You were always saving my ass. Yet, when I went to save yours. . .” Sam shrugged. “You never let me. And then, the  _ one  _ time I didn’t go look for you. . . the  _ one  _ time that I kept my  _ promise  _ on that, you came back and blew up at me. Yet, I don’t recall you actively looking for a way to get me out of the Cage, or even tried to see if I had come back.” Sam shrugged. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite, Dean.” 

“Sam-” 

“Oh hush, Castiel,” Sam snapped, rounding on the angel. “If I recall, when we were trying to save you from opening Purgatory and ingesting all of those souls, you cracked open my noggin. You let Lucifer free in my head, enough to the point where I couldn’t eat or sleep.” 

“I have atoned for that, Sam,” Castiel said. “I took it away, didn’t I?” 

“Yes, I suppose you did, and lasted thirty seconds with him running around before you became a vegetable.” Sam mused. “But you remember what your first words to me were?” 

Castiel shook his head like a sad puppy. 

“‘Sam Winchester. The boy with the demon blood.’” Sam quoted. 

Castiel’s expression was hurt. “I no longer thought that. Until today.” 

Sam snorted. “Maybe not. But there were several times, even in recent memory, where you referred to me as an abomination, uninhabitable for most everything- except, of course, Lucifer himself.”

“Sam, you must understand, I didn’t know you, truly, as a person back then,” Castiel pleaded, to the point of tears. 

“Of course.” Sam shrugged. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Doesn’t mean that every time you called me an abomination, I wanted to show you what one looked like.”

 

_ I’m bigger than my body  _

_ I’m colder than this home  _

_ I’m meaner than my demons _

_ I’m bigger than these bones  _

 

Dean watched and listened, trying to regain his ability to speak, but apparently Sam was super juiced up or something, as he couldn’t get his vocal cords to work after he had snapped his fingers. 

He saw Castiel get hurt by Sam’s words and he wanted nothing more than to divert Sam’s attention. 

But it seemed like his brother had a plan. 

“So, I figure, I could show you what a  _ true  _ abomination looks like, and what they do,” Sam said. He stepped through the holy fire as though it was nothing, and was careful not to smudge the blood on the floor, although by now it had dried. 

Angel and human stared each other down. Dean could tell Cas was terrified. He couldn’t blame him. Not only was Sam soulless, hopped up on demon blood, and taller than him, but both of them knew exactly what Sam was capable of. 

He wanted to scream and shout, beg for Sam to torture him instead, to spare Cas. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t make himself known. 

He closed his eyes and prayed whatever was going to happen would be quick. 

Cas’ loud scream made him lose hope for that, and his eyes flew open to find Sam slowly carving out a large chunk of skin and muscle off of his shoulders. 

“Such pretty scream,” Sam cooed. 

Dean felt sick to his stomach. 

“You see, I may not have learned about how to torture from Crowley, like you, or from Alastair, like my brother,” Sam explained softly as he cast the piece of flesh aside as if it were nothing. It lit up and burned in the holy fire flames. “But I learned from Lucifer and Michael, in the Cage. They taught me the true meaning of torture. With a soul, I never liked doing it. It wasn’t difficult, I just knew I could go too far. But now, without one?” Sam laughed quietly. “Well. . . let’s just say the idea of remorse is laughable.” 

Dean struggled against his invisible bonds as Sam continued to cut out more chunks of flesh from Castiel. He shielded his eyes on some of the cuts (like when Sam went below the belt. . . he’s pretty sure Cas’ scream is going to haunt him for the rest of his life) but for the most part, he watched, struggling. Sam had yet to release his vocal cords. 

And then the unthinkable happened. 

 

_ And all the kids cried out  _

_ “Please stop, you’re scaring me” _

_ I can’t help this awful energy _

 

Sam looked over at the pile of burning flesh before looking back at Castiel. “Would you say that’s roughly a pound of flesh?” He asked him. 

Castiel nodded. “Sam. . . I’m sorry. For what it’s worth.” 

Sam sniffed and gave a soft chuckle. “I know you are. But are you  _ truly  _ sorry, or are you just sorry that your just desserts finally caught up with you?” He inquired. “Not that it matters.”

Castiel squinted at Sam. “And why is that?” 

“Because of this,” Sam said casually as he smoothly slid the angel blade into Cas’ heart. 

The angel’s blue eyes went wide open in shock before angelic Grace shot out in all directions. Both hunters averted their gazes and when the light was gone, all that remained was Jimmy Novak with bits and chunks carved out of him, like someone was carving up his body to process its meat. 

Sam cracked his neck and sheathed the angel blade back in his belt before turning to a crying and furious Dean. “Well. That was an adventure,” he said, clapping his hands. “Your turn, Dean.”

 

_ Goddamn right you should be scared of me _

_ Who is in control? _

 

Dean was now terrified as Sam lumbered towards him, unable to speak. Unable to really do much of anything except struggle. 

“I bet you sent out a message, calling for help, didn’t you?” Sam purred. “Well, I’m sorry, but by the time they reach this place, there’ll be nothing here but nine corpses. Or maybe not even that. Maybe I’ll just. . . burn you all in a massive grave. After all, it’s hard to prove murder without a body.” His baby brother smirked. “That’s known as  _ corpus delcti,  _ by the way. It literally translates to ‘you have the body’ in Latin.” 

Dean nearly threw up as the overwhelming scent of blood hit his nostrils, knowing that there was eight peoples’ lives on his brother’s hands. 

“Got any brilliant last words before I begin, Dean?” Sam asked, snapping his fingers and releasing Dean’s vocal cords. 

Dean coughed and raised his eyes to meet Sam’s, nearly wetting himself again at the sight of swirling yellow in Sam’s eyes. “I love you, Sammy.” 

“Touching,” Sam laughed. “I think you’ve told me that a grand total of  _ never  _ and right before I’m about to kill you, you tell me. The irony.”

Dean bit his lower lip to keep the tears from flowing, although he couldn’t help but scream as Sam began carving into his chest with the tip of Ruby’s knife. 

Sam took his time, made sure that each cut was neat and precise and deep enough to make Dean scream and grit his teeth in agony. Sweat cascaded down Dean’s forehead as each cut was made. 

Finally, it ended, Sam standing back to look at his handiwork. Dean looked down at his ruined AC/DC shirt and saw a unique sigil carved on his torso, even dipping to below his jeans. 

“My sigil. My signature.” Sam leaned in and whispered in Dean’s ear,  _ “my birthright. _ ”

“Sammy,” Dean choked. 

“Good bye, Dean.” With that, Dean felt rather than heard the gun go off and he slumped to the ground, coughing and wheezing and clutching his gut. 

His gun was too far away, and besides, Sam scooped it up along with all the hunter’s other weapons before leaving. 

Dean was alone, and he managed to crawl himself over to where Cas laid dead on the floor, eyes burned out. He hunched himself up painfully over his friend’s body and wept for the loss of his family and friends.

When Crowley found him, twenty minutes later, he was curled up on his side, trying to wedge the bullet out with dying breaths. 

 

_ And all the kids cried out  _

_ “Please stop, you’re scaring me” _

_ I can’t help this awful energy _

 

Sam walked. His brother’s car would forever be abandoned in the bunker- he didn’t need the sentiment, nor the fact that everyone knew Dean’s car. So he walked. And walked. 

Any hunters he came across were quickly taken care of, as were demons and angels and any other monsters he came across. 

Knowing that Crowley was trying to get him before he made his way to Hell, he left a misleading trail of bodies for him to follow before making his way downstairs. 

Demons ran as they saw his stride to the throne and he sat himself down in it. “Stay on my good side, and you’ll be rewarded,” he informed them. “Get on my bad side, and you’ll be made an example of, and you’ll become my meal. Understand?” 

The demons nodded. 

Sam smirked. “Good. Now. Bring me Crowley. And long live the King.” 

The demons scattered as Sam leaned back in his throne with a flask of a crossroads demon and a book, ready to rule Hell. 

 

_ Goddamn right you should be scared of me _

_ Who is in control? _

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come give me love and tell me that you want to strangle me for this fic on tumblr at lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell.tumblr.com
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


End file.
